24. Miles
Miles
“You’re late,” Serena said as she opened the Kings’ front door. “Dinner is being served.”
Fuck, back here again.
This place was practically my second home.
I knew where everything was. I’d slept here as a kid after video game marathons with Erik and as an adult after one too many drinks at a party.
I knew where Serena’s room was on the first floor on the other side of the mansion, and how to get in without being seen.
“I had to handle some things at the site,” I muttered as she shut the door behind me.
“Why? Is something wrong?”
I looked down at her, noticing the way the sunlight caught the strands of her hair. She bit her bottom lip, her hands twisting nervously as she looked at me with a forlorn expression.
“We can go if we need to. That property is an investment for us, and we cannot?—”
“You’re overthinking again,” I said quietly, with the smallest tug at my mouth. “You get that crease in your brow when you’re doing it.”
I pressed my finger to her skin, gently smoothing away the frown lines, feeling her softness beneath my touch. As much as I didn’t want to be here, at the least I could do was push down what I was feeling and be here to support her.
I remembered dinners at the Kings’. Sometimes I would nudge Serena under the table with my foot, just to make her look at me. Sometimes she’d play back, brushing her leg against mine like she wasn’t doing a damn thing, like she didn’t know exactly what that did to me.
I leaned down before I could stop myself, moving a strand of hair behind her ear. Just for comfort , I told myself.
Then I kissed her.
It started soft—just my lips to hers. But when she didn’t pull away, I pressed a little deeper, and she opened to me like she’d been waiting. Her mouth was warm, and she tasted like wine and everything I hadn’t let myself want.
“The faster we eat, the faster we can go home.”
Her head tilted just slightly—barely a shift—but I caught it.
And I felt it too, the quiet weight of that word. Home. Not my place. Not hers. Ours.
Serena extended her hand, her fingers intertwining with mine, her skin soft and warm.
The scent of old books and polished wood filled the air as Serena guided me down the hall, though I knew where to go.
In the dining room, a massive crystal chandelier cast a glittering light onto the highly polished mahogany table.
Deep, plush velvet clothed the high-backed wooden chairs, gold trim glinting softly in the dim light.
Yvonne King was at the head of the table when we entered.
“There’s the man of the hour,” Vincent said next to her, and he offered a tight smile as he glanced back warily at Yvonne. “Didn’t think you were going to show. Good to see you, Miles.”
I forced a jovial tone. “Vince. I wouldn’t miss it.”
To my relief, Laurene and Reese were seated at the table as well. They would definitely make tonight more tolerable. I gave Laurene a hug, her belly protruding even more since I last saw her a few weeks ago, and before she released me, she murmured, “Try not to start a war at dinner, hmm?”
I stepped back and gave her a grin.
Giving Reese a quick dap, I was surprised to spot Noelle, Laurene’s best friend, at the table too. “Wassup, Short Stack!”
Noelle rolled her eyes at me, but she was another little sister, and she hugged me anyway. “I told you to get a better nickname to call me.”
Serena nudged me to sit, her gaze pinned on Miss Yvonne.
“Gigi won’t be here tonight.” Yvonne hadn’t taken her eyes off me. “Apparently some rapper is more important than family.”
Miss Yvonne used to be…warmer.
I remembered once she called me baby , just offhand. I think I was fifteen. But I still remembered her pulling a blanket over me when I’d crash on their couch. The way she told Erik and me to watch each other’s backs like we were blood.
She used to smile more, I remembered that. Not often—but when she did, you felt like you’d won something.
“He’s not a rapper, he’s an entrepreneur,” Laurene said as a server placed a plate of braised short ribs and truffle grits in front of her. “He’s worked with all the celebrities and stylists down in Hollywood. He’s going to give her advice to start her boutique.”
Miss Yvonne rolled her eyes. “Where did I go wrong?”
“I think it’s great,” Noelle chimed in, all bright-eyed and sugar-sweet. “It’ll give her some focus. A project of her own.”
Yvonne cut her a look so sharp it could’ve sliced through the beef. “We’ve handed that girl every opportunity money could buy, and what does she do? Half-asses it and runs the other way. Let’s move on before I lose my appetite.”
“Gigi’s resourceful. She can do it if she wants it.” Vincent shot Yvonne a look.
“Agreed,” Reese said.
I looked around the room. “Where’s Erik?”
Right on cue, the antique double doors creaked open, their aged wood protesting with a mournful groan. “I’ll call you back,” Erik muttered into his phone, slipping it into his pocket.
Then we locked eyes.
I felt myself sit up in my seat, a jolt running through my spine.
The memory of seeing him outside King Developments with Victor that night, the streetlights blurring around us, had kept me on edge, waiting for him to tell Serena and for her to confront me.
But when it didn’t happen, I knew Erik well enough to know he was up to something.
Nothing in his face shifted. No smile. No sneer. Just that blank, heavy stare. He took his seat across from me, next to Noelle, and looked to Miss Yvonne.
“Sorry about that,” he said. “Jose was able to secure that deal for us.”
Miss Yvonne just nodded. “Good.” She sliced into her short ribs. “So, you two,” she began, “let’s talk about your progress. How is the Harrington estate?”
Serena glanced at me and reached for her wine.
I cleared my throat, slow. “We’ve had some delays.”
“Delays?”
“Permits,” Serena added quickly. “We’re working through it.”
“Is that so?” Erik said slowly as he stared at the both of us. “Nothing else? No outside investors ?”
I played dumb and shrugged. “Not any that I know of.”
Erik’s gaze narrowed.
“We’re right on track,” Serena said firmly.
“Bullshit,” Erik muttered.
I frowned at him. “You got something you wanna get off your chest?”
“A lot actually,” he said.
“Boys,” Vincent said.
“You just letting him do it?” Erik turned to Serena.
“What are you talking about?”
Don’t say shit, Erik.
“Aren’t you running King Enterprises? Serena and I got our businesses handled. Nobody needs your opinion on how we do things.”
He sat back. Noelle, who was sitting next to him, reached out to place a hand on his arm. “Oh, so you big shit? Just come into my company and take over?”
“ My company,” Serena emphasized. “ I run it.”
Erik shook his head. “Relax. No one’s taking your sandbox away.”
I saw Laurene’s and Noelle’s heads whip to Erik, and Serena grabbed her knife, giving him a look of disgust. “My sandbox?”
“All due respect,” I said, leaning forward, voice calm but cutting, “but King Developments is the only part of your family’s empire actually innovating right now. So maybe instead of talking down to her, you should be taking notes and not banking on the rest of our hard-ass work.”
“What work? You’re company’s been piss-poor for years and you haven’t even been able to get it back on track until us,” Erik shot back.
“How you mad at me? My family was ruined, yours is sitting up here eating braised rib and lobster,” I snapped.
“Don’t do this at the table,” Vincent told Erik.
“This was a mistake,” he said, looking at his parents. “We should have done things my way.”
“I’m the head of this family,” Yvonne said calmly. “Your input isn’t needed, Erik.”
He scoffed, leaning back in his chair like he was too exhausted to hold his tongue any longer. “It is. Serena’s sitting here like she has no idea what’s actually going on—and from the looks of it, she can’t handle it or him anyway.”
“You that much of a pussy you want to insult your sister? You? The one who needs Mommy’s approval for everything? Do you even know all the hard fucking work she’s been putting in? Day in and day out.”
“Miles…” Serena placed her hand on mine. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not.”
Erik pushed his chair back with a loud scrape and immediately I matched him.
Vincent cleared his throat. “That’s enough.”
“Don’t insult my wife.”
I ignored Laurene’s and Noelle’s squeals, watching him. I still wanted to see a brother somewhere in him but it was hard as fuck to find any semblance of it.
“No,” Yvonne said, voice like a whip crack. “Let them finish since apparently dinner is now a street brawl.”
“I’m not the one starting shit,” I said, voice calm but tight. “I came here out of respect.”
“Respect?” Yvonne arched a brow, slicing her rib again like she was imagining it was my neck. “I think your family lost that when your father was doing crack.”
“Mama!” Serena said.
Reese cleared his throat and pointed to a server. “More wine, please.”
“Reese!” Laurene hissed and I saw her pinch him.
“My father served his time,” I said, looking her straight in the eye. “And I’m not him. It would be nice if we can stop bring up old issues that have been resolved.”
“Well, I’ve yet to see the difference,” Miss Yvonne replied.
“Mama, please,” Laurene said. “We didn’t invite them over for this.”
“Exactly,” Vincent said.
“Can I get some more bread?” Laurene called to a servant. “Quickly!”
“It’s never going to work between them,” Erik said.
“You don’t have to like him,” Serena said, her voice almost too even, “but you don’t get to talk to him like he’s beneath us. Especially not in front of me.”
Yvonne blinked, slow. “Excuse me?”
“I said what I said,” she murmured. “You heard me the first time. Miles is a part of this family, he deserves just as much respect as the rest of us. What his father did is done. For the sake of all of us, it’s better we get along.”
The table went still. Even the servers froze in the background like they’d felt a shift in air pressure.
Miss Yvonne looked shocked at Serena’s words. “You think you’re grown enough to talk back now?”
“You know what makes you nervous?” I said, calm as hell. “It’s not my father. It’s not the past. It’s the fact that I lost everything, and I’m still here. Still at your same fucking level. What if I tell your family what you really did?”
Everyone turned to him. Erik opened his mouth—maybe to speak, maybe to spit—Yvonne’s chair scraped back, loud against the marble.
“Well,” she said crisply, rising, “dinner’s over.”
No one argued. Then it was just the servers collecting dishes like they wanted to be invisible, and me. Still at the table. I didn’t move until I felt Serena’s hand in mine again.
“You knew Erik would say something. You knew exactly how he’d react.”
“I’m not like you. I don’t sweep shit under the rug. I address things.”
Her fingers twitched in mine but didn’t pull away.
“You didn’t deserve that,” she said. “You never did.”
That made my hackles lower, and I squinted at her. “Are you being…comforting?”
Serena didn’t say anything. She placed her hand on my cheek and then kissed me. Leaning back, she blinked at me before her mouth brushed mine again, slower this time—like she was tasting something familiar but long lost.
I didn’t move at first. I was too stunned.
Then I sank into it, cupping her waist like I’d been waiting for this moment since we fell apart.
And maybe I had.